Maheen Kaleem is a Stoneleigh emerging leader fellow at the ACLU of PA.

There’s an old adage: you never know how you’ll react until it happens to you. I live by those words.

I’ve spent the last decade committed to improving the lives of two groups of people: women victimized by sexual violence, and youth of color impacted by racial bias in the juvenile and criminal justice systems. Seems like they would go hand in hand, right? Wrong. In both my professional and my personal life I have constantly been faced with an impossible choice—who do I care about more—people of color or women?

Under current laws, if someone is a victim of sexual assault, domestic violence, or sexual exploitation, they only have one option: call the police and participate in prosecution to ensure your perpetrator goes to jail. But for many victims and survivors, justice does not mean locking someone up.

I am one of those survivors. A few years ago, a former boyfriend and I got into a verbal argument which turned physically violent. I worked closely with most of the domestic violence detectives in the area. If I had called the police, he would have been prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. But I chose not to.

My loved ones thought I was weak, and many of them lost respect for me. My co-workers worried I was setting a bad example for the young women who were my clients. Everyone around me felt my decision not to involve the police was driven out of fear and lack of self-worth. They could not fathom the truth. The truth? I didn’t call the police because for me, justice did not mean jail.

Every victim and survivor has different needs. I believe in restorative justice. What I needed was for my perpetrator to understand the harm he caused me and to receive the tools to deal with his anger in non-violent ways.

For me, justice did not mean sending my perpetrator into the criminal justice system, because our system prioritizes punishment over rehabilitation. We spend significantly more money incarcerating people than on education, mental health services, and reentry services for formerly incarcerated people. Maybe punishment is appropriate—but only when there is some semblance of fairness. He was a young man of color, which meant he was more likely to receive a disproportionately harsh sentence. It also meant that it would be harder for him to keep or find work because he would have a criminal record.

Unfortunately, the law does not allow victims to choose whether to involve the criminal justice system. If we want to access services, we are often required to involve the police. Many jurisdictions mandate that victims fleeing domestic violence or sexual assault cannot access emergency shelter unless they report the incident to the police, even when a police officer is the perpetrator. If a child victim of commercial sexual exploitation refuses to cooperate with a police investigation of her trafficker, she herself can be prosecuted for prostitution, obstruction of justice, conspiracy, or even trafficking of other minors. I know 17 year-olds who are sentenced to 25-year sentences simply because they were afraid or unwilling to testify against a perpetrator.

Many victims do need the protection of law enforcement, but they are penalized for seeking help. Many places have mandatory arrest laws, placing victims at a heightened risk of violence and even arrest. My colleagues at the ACLU have challenged town ordinances that encourage and require landlords to evict tenants when the police have been called to their homes for domestic disputes. Even when victims do agree to testify against perpetrators, they are not given enough protection during the course of a prosecution. I know child victims of sex trafficking who were attacked for agreeing to testify, even when they informed law enforcement that they felt unsafe. In the most tragic instance, one of these victims was killed for cooperating with the police.

Clearly, we need to do better. If we are going to address violence against women we have to imagine policies that focus on ending violence and supporting victims. Maybe it means harsher penalties for abusers. But maybe it also means more programs that teach non-violent conflict resolution in jails, police academies, and schools. My ability to receive help should not depend on whether or not I am not ready to send my perpetrator to jail, or face him in open court. It should depend on what I decide I need.

This is what justice looks like to me.

###

Maheen Kaleem is a Stoneleigh emerging leader fellow at the ACLU of PA. She holds a JD from Georgetown University Law Center and a Bachelors from Georgetown University’s School of Foreign Service. Prior to law school, Maheen served as a crisis responder and violence prevention worker to over 350 commercially sexually exploited children. Maheen is committed to promoting racial justice and ending gender-based violence.

10 thoughts on “Am I My Brother’s Keeper or My Sister’s? The impossible battle between women’s rights and criminal justice.”

Thank you Maheen, for not only telling a worthy story but for being honest and vulnerable in your strength. Victims don’t need re victimization within a system of blame and retribution, they need the ability to find their strength again on their own terms.

Thought you might be interested in a strange anomaly here in Allegheny County, which I am told is unique in all of Pennsylvania. When there is a final hearing for a Protection From Abuse petition, and a plaintiff is reluctant to request a PFA order which has criminal consequences, we have the option to enter a “Consent Order to Vacate the Temporary PFA.” In those orders, both parties must consent, but we write all the same protections as a PFA (ie: defendant shall not abuse, stalk, harass. Stay away from home, etc.). It is enforceable by civil contempt of court motion instead of indirect criminal / arrest.

It’s clearly not enough to deter a determined abuser, but then again, a PFA is just a piece of paper too. Another “incentive” than can be written into the order is that if the abuser violates the Consent Order with more harassment or contact, the judge can enter a final PFA without the issuance of another temporary. An interesting development here in Pittsburgh to solve the problem of an “all or nothing” process.

And of course, the PFA process itself is in civil family court and DV victims can often get a protection order without ever having called the police, though obviously you can’t enforce a PFA without involving cops.

BOOM! Thank you thank you-for sharing your story, for making accessible a truth that many can relate to, but to which few alternatives exist and further exposing the concrete need for different forms of justice, especially for victims of sexual violence. We are offered very few conceptual alternatives about how to imagine justice for ourselves and our communities (let alone actual alternatives). Justice does not equal jail for so many! Refreshing and much-needed perspective, great read. Much love Maheen!

i can’t help but think, also, that you might get some backlash for this. but i also can’t help but think that lots of people won’t understand how police presence means such different things to different people.

Thanks for all the great resources– I will definitely be taking a look in my free time. I did get some backlash, but that is welcomed and expected. I only hoped to provide a different perspective and to start a conversation that hopefully can bring us all closer to the middle at some point.